


Bet You Can't

by NachtGraves



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Competitive idiots, Fluff, Idiots, M/M, cheese fest, cheesy af, dumb game, lol at my dumb first fanfic, orz for the ooc-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya and Shizuo were just playing a game. A simple game of 'I Bet You Can't'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet You Can't

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the first piece of fanfiction I ever wrote, like three years ago, maybe? But yeah. It's just dumb fluff that's super cheesy and idek how I wrote it.

Heiwajima Shizuo had no idea how it came to this, but there he was, in his apartment with Orihara Izaya. They were seated in Shizuo's kitchen at the counter. Well, Shizuo was sitting on a chair while Izaya was sitting on the counter itself.

"Come on, Shizu-chan~," Izaya teased, swinging his legs back and forth as he leaned forward, face turned towards Shizuo at his left. He used one hand to grab the bottle of hot sauce and wave it in front of Shizuo's face. "You gonna prove me right?"

"Like hell, flea," Shizuo snapped, grabbing the new bottle. He roughly unscrewed the cap and brought the lip of the bottle to his own. Without fully thinking his actions through, Shizuo tilted the bottle and his neck back and swallowed three large gulps of the red liquid.

It took him a moment to register the burning sensation. His eyes watered, his nose hurt, his tongue burned, and his throat felt raw. He had made a mistake, but if it meant beating Izaya in a stupid game of  _Bet You Can't_ , Shizuo was up for almost anything.

But his mouth was burning and his stomach did not agree with the assault of hot sauce.

Shizuo jumped out of his seat and made a dash for his fridge. He pulled at the handle, tearing the door right off its hinges and threw it across the room, and heard a crash, the sound of a glass shattering, but otherwise ignored it. He snagged a carton of milk and began to chug the cool liquid desperately.

Izaya was laughing, holding his stomach as he rocked back and forth on the countertop.

Through his tearing eyes behind his signature blue tinted sunglasses, he watched Izaya laugh with a freeness and joviality that made the information broker seem…cute.

Shizuo finished the carton of milk and chugged half of a second just to completely override the burning hot sauce.

Izaya was still laughing but Shizuo, surprisingly, couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at the other twenty-five year old. He didn’t feel the urge to grab the man by the scruff of that jacket he seemed to never go without and toss him right through the broken window and into the streets almost ten stories below. He could feel a smile of his own quickly approaching, but he held it back.

“Your turn, flea,” Shizuo said, walking up to Izaya who reduced his laughter into chuckles.

Izaya smirked and cocked his head to the side, “What’ll it be, Shizu-chan?”

“I bet you can’t shove twenty ice cubes down your underwear,” Shizuo challenged.

Izaya hopped off the counter, one hand on his hip. “Bring the ice.”

Shizuo went back to his fridge – he made a mental note to get it fixed, again – and pulled open the side to the freezer. He grabbed two trays of ice cubes and set them on the kitchen table.

“Time’s running, flea,” Shizuo jeered. “One at a time and for at least thirty seconds.”

Izaya shrugged and walked into the kitchen. He unbuttoned his black skinny jeans and pulled down the zip, showing off his black boxer-briefs.

Shizuo gulped and looked away, berating himself immediately for acting weird. It was just the flea. Who was male. But more importantly, who was Orihara Izaya.

Izaya shook the ice cube trays so that the cold cubes fell on the counter. He grabbed a handful with one hand and with the other pulled elastic of his underwear away from his body, dropping one ice cube at a time.

Shizuo watched his face with a smirk, enjoying every flinch and grimace at the sting of the cold.

Izaya rushed to get all twenty ice cubes down his boxer-briefs, going one by one as Shizuo had ordered, and bit his lip harshly as Shizuo counted down from thirty excruciatingly slowly.

“Hurry up!” Izaya whined, hopping from one foot to the other but that only made it worse as the ice slid around and pressed into his most intimate places.

“2…1…0,” Shizuo finished, laughing when Izaya bolted to the bathroom with his jeans already halfway to his knees. His laughter had faltered momentarily but he pulled on a victorious smirk before he could follow the train of thought that focused on the cotton stretched over Izaya’s backside.

The raven-haired man returned shortly, although there was a faint patch of darkness at his crotch from the melted ice.

The information broker found Shizuo leaning his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest smugly, though his eyes drifted to one of the many ashtrays located around his apartment.

“Bet you can’t go an hour without smoking,” said Izaya.

Shizuo scoffed, “Bring it, flea. I bet you can’t take a drag without choking.”

Izaya went over to Shizuo and slipped his hand into one of Shizuo’s pockets, pulling out the cigarette box and lighter Shizuo always kept on hand.

He put the stick between his lips and flicked the lighter a few times before getting the little orange flame. He lit the stick and inhaled through it, but didn’t manage to get far as he threw the stick away and started coughing harshly, sputtering and gasping.

Shizuo laughed wholeheartedly at the sight of a gasping Izaya. The lithe man was without his usual mocking expression, replaced with one of surprise and pinched with the need for air. Shizuo found himself wanting to see more expressions his flea could make.

“Nice try, flea,” Shizuo smirked, picking up the discarded cigarette and pressing it into the ashtray he had been eyeing that prompted the previous two bets. It was almost a miracle he managed to fit one more in the mass graveyard of cigarette butts.

Izaya recovered with a cough here and there but his cool and calm mask was back on. “My turn. I bet you can’t… kiss me.”

That threw Shizuo off kilter.

“What?” he asked for clarification assuming he’d heard wrong.

Izaya smirked, “What’s wrong, Shizu-chan? Are you already losing your hearing? I said, bet you can’t kiss me.”

Immediately, Shizuo’s eyes dropped to Izaya’s lips that were curved into his infamous smirk. He wondered how they’d feel against his own.

“Are you serious?” he asked, still thinking Izaya was just messing with him. He also wasn’t sure what to make of his own desire to go through with the challenge. Did it even count as a challenge if you were completely willing?

Izaya’s smirk grew, “Why, Shizu-chan? It’s just a kiss.”

“Fine,” Shizuo said, feigning reluctance. In truth, he couldn’t move fast enough towards Izaya but he had to make sure he didn’t seem too eager.

Just as he reached the raven-haired man, head tilting downwards to plant his lips on the other’s, Izaya ducked away and was at the other end of the apartment before Shizuo could realize what had happened.

“Didn’t think I’d just stand there, did you?” Izaya teased, grinning mischievously.

It took a moment but Shizuo finally returned to his senses and growled, “Get back here, flea!”

They began a rather chaotic game of tag, Izaya hopping around the modest apartment from room to room over every piece of furniture with the grace of a gazelle. Shizuo went about like a bull in a china shop although he did manage to not destroy major pieces of furniture. He just moved them a bit…across rooms.

Eventually Izaya was standing on the ledge of Shizuo’s balcony and Shizuo was afraid that Izaya would fall down. There was no way he would survive the fall even if he were Orihara Izaya.

“Tired, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asked, still smirking. Truth be told, he was panting lightly from the exertion. Shizuo had nearly caught him a number of times, but Izaya had managed to slip past like the slippery eel he was.

“No,” Shizuo scoffed even though it was clear he was lying to save face. “Get down from there, flea. Even you will die if you fall.”

Izaya grinned, “Are you _worried_ about me, Shizu-chan? I’m touched.”

Again, Shizuo scoffed but he looked away, “As if, flea. I don’t want to be falsely charged with homicide.”

Izaya began to walk along the edge, arms held up as if imitating an aeroplane, and kicked his foot up high in the air before placing it down and repeating the gesture.

“Flea, get down from there!” Shizuo demanded.

Izaya ignored him and pivoted on one foot before taking another exaggerated step.

“Izaya!” Shizuo was getting anxious. “Get down from there!”

“But then you’ll win this round,” Izaya said, continuing to take hazardous steps.

“Fine! I give up!”

Izaya grinned and jumped off the edge and onto the balcony floor. “Your turn then, Shizu-chan.”

“Stupid flea,” Shizuo muttered, locking the balcony door when Izaya returned to the inside of the apartment.

They carried on with their little game. The challenges simpler this time around, no more running around the apartment or destroying property.

“Bet you can’t touch the ceiling.”

“Bet you can’t do a cartwheel.”

“Bet you can’t make cake in a cup in less than ten minutes.”

This continued for the next hour or so, neither backing down nor admitting defeat. Shizuo was running out of ideas.

“Bet you can’t do a bridge without your hands touching the ground,” he said.

Izaya frowned for a moment, thinking how he could complete the challenge. When he did, his face lit up in a grin and he directed Shizuo to sit on the floor.

“Raise your arms up so I can grab onto your wrists,” Izaya ordered, standing with his back to Shizuo. The ex-bartender got quite the view of Izaya’s jeans covered butt and he almost didn’t hear Izaya’s command.

Izaya reached back over his shoulders and grabbed onto Shizuo’s wrist and then slowly bent his spine backwards.

Once he went as far as he could go, he grinned at Shizuo, “I did it, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo could help but stare at Izaya’s face, even upside down. The other man’s lips were right there, all he had to do was lean forward. And he did.

Shizuo’s watched Izaya’s eyes widen in surprise as he pressed his lips firmly onto Izaya’s. They were soft, lightly chapped, and warm.

Izaya didn’t know what to make of the situation. He was not even remotely prepared for Shizuo to kiss him. His eyes were locked onto the blond’s through Shizuo’s blue tinted sunglasses.

Shizuo pulled back and Izaya dropped down, his legs unable to hold his weight any longer due to the shock of Heiwajima Shizuo _kissing_ him of his own volition.

When Izaya was sitting down, Shizuo slipped his wrists free from Izaya’s slackened grip and used his hands to turn Izaya’s face towards him, pressing his lips onto the other’s once again.

It took a moment but when Shizuo parted his lips and used his tongue to ask for entrance, Izaya melted into the kiss and opened his mouth with a soft moan. He turned around so he was between Shizuo’s bent legs and wrapped his lean arms around Shizuo’s broad shoulders, hands going into the blond’s hair as he pulled the other man closer.

Shizuo’s hands went under Izaya’s jacket and shirt, feeling the warm skin of his back and the rippling muscles.

The two battled for dominance, tongues twisting and pushing against each other when Shizuo finally won and explored each crevice of Izaya’s mouth as he moaned into Shizuo’s mouth.

When they finally pulled apart to breathe, Izaya smiled slyly, lips just barely brushing Shizuo’s, “My turn, isn’t it? Bet you won’t be my boyfriend.”

Shizuo smirked, “Oh really?”

Izaya grinned and Shizuo reconnected their lips in another passionate embrace. Izaya didn’t leave Shizuo’s apartment that day. Or the next couple days after.

  
_[ image that inspired this short ]_


End file.
